


All the Pretty Horses

by thatoneeccedentesiast



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Complete, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Horses, Kid Fic, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoneeccedentesiast/pseuds/thatoneeccedentesiast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England has a big surprise for his little colony America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Pretty Horses

It was a early spring day. The sky was a benevolent azure with none of the day's previous stratus clouds remaining and when a wind blew by; tickling the budding tree leaves and newly green grass, one felt the beginning of spring. It was in the mid-morning of this day that a duo walked a quiet dirt path. Both fair, slim and neatly dressed. One of the pair, a boy of seven or eight skipped beside his companion singing a church hymn* below his breath;

_Eternal father, who shall look_

_Into thy secret will?_

_Who but the Son will take that book_

_And open ev'ry seal?_

"America," the older chided. "None of that now."

Curious eyes turned up to the full-browed face of his fellow blond. "Why not? My boss likes it when I sing the songs I hear in church; says it means 'I'm growin' up to be a good, god-fearing man.'"

"And that's  _great_ and all," the other sniffed. "But what about one of the songs  _I_ taught you, hm?

It wasn't that he hadn't  _liked_ learning England's songs...but he much preferred the ones he heard and sang in church. So, the little boy sighed and instead fell silent for a breath time. It was as they passed the turn for town that he looked once more to his companion. "Where are we going to England?"

Green eyes lit up and with a smile pulling at his mouth, the man made a motion for America to come closer. He did so, accepting the hand on his shoulder without a fuss. "It is a surprise my boy," he replied kindly. "You are getting quite big and I think it is time we get you one of these."

Excitement making his stomach do a flip, the little boy danced away from the hand to face England as they walked. "What is it!?" He demanded with a happy clap of his hands. "I already have a house. A cat. Some cows that live in my Barn...And I have a gun. Oh, oh! Is it a dog!? I don't have one of those!"

Merrily, the man chuckled and shook his head. "A little better than a dog, I'd say."

"What is it England!?" America pleaded, jutting his lip out in great hope of an answer.

But eyes taking a shifty glint, the little boy's companion replied; '"You will see my boy." Sighing to cover his unkind grumbles, America turned around and continued his trot ahead of his colonizer instead of beside him.

* * *

"This way," England called to the boy as he readied to take a left turn up a path toward a comfortably sized cabin and barn.

The small body swerved, blue eyes glimmering with their abundant joy once again. "That's a farm," America remarked. His pupils dilated. "A horsey!" He shrieked loudly, running toward the cabin.

"Slow down my boy!" The man called after, but he knew it was useless even as he did so. His young companion was much too excited to slow down; if it had been another day or a different reason, England might have jogged after him - if only so he could catch the rascal and give him a firm shake for his lack of decorum. However, in this instance, he understood the child's joy far out weighed his control and so he allowed it to continue unchecked (he allowed him to behave a little too wildly in general, he'd realized lately).

Coming up to the farm, he saw America was running restlessly around the area; chasing some chicken, scaring a cat and throwing a hunter dog of some sort into a fit of yowling. Putting a hand to his hip, England snapped; "Alfred!" The boy stopped. Blue eyes wide and mouth open. "What do you think you are doing young master?" He demanded coming up to his little companion and setting to work at smoothing down America's askew hair and butting up the jacket he wore.

"Sorry," the little boy whispered as his head hung low.

Patting the soft wheat-gold hair, the man stood back up and shook his head. "All is forgiven," and then cast his sights out to the barn where a man stood leaning on the barn with several young children behind him. "Shall we?" He inquired of his partner with an offered hand. America took it with a sunbeam worthy smile.

"Yes!" He yipped.

Coming up to the man, Arthur offered a hand to the man he'd met the previous fall. "Good morning Mr. Peterson."

"And the same to you Mr. Kirkland," the farmer returned with a chapped smile. "Would you like to see the foals now?" He inquired politely as his children scattered.

"If it's not too much trouble," The man replied; setting a hand on America's head, he gazed down fondly. "The young master here guessed what we came for upon seeing the barn. I'm afraid his exuberance is getting the better of him and I can't say I know if he'll behave himself much longer."

And as if to prove his point, the little boy frowned and wriggled beneath the hand; half-heartedly kicking at a flowering weed. Mr. Peterson chuckled. "I understand how that can be," he said and with a short gesture, lead them back behind his barn.

Following after, the duo took in the smell of the freshly turned fields around them as well as the sight of Mr. Peterson's children who appeared to be in the midst of getting cleaned up for lunch if the sight of two of the girls washing their hands and faces in a basin of water beside the cabin was anything to go by. Coming to a corral where a fine gray-white horse munched happily on grass, America gasped as two foals came around from behind her.

One was an off-white and the other a dapple gray. "They're so pretty!" The little boy awed as he clambered onto the fence to look at them better.

Coming up beside the man, the farmer remarked; "I didn't even know she was pregnant with two."

"Do I get both?!" America demanded as one of them came to sniff at his hand.

England sighed. "He's going to sulk for days if he doesn't take them both home today."

Mr. Peterson's eyes twinkled. "I can give ya until the end of the month to pay back for the second one."

Laughing breathlessly, America shouted to England. "This one here is Markie," his little finger jutted at the white horse; "And that is Larry!" Swinging his other hand toward the dapple gray. He fell off the fence then, having lost his balance in trying to tell England their names.

Rubbing at his forehead, the blond man realized the farmer was offering him quite the deal and he should accept it graciously. "Thank you Mr. Peterson, I'll have the money for you by the end of the week," he replied shaking hands to seal the deal.

"Not a problem Mr. Kirkland," he answered. "Now, I've had the kids get them used to being lead the past couple months, so you shouldn't have a problem getting them home..."

* * *

Meandering back to the little boy's residence, the sun warmed their backs as the foals chuffed and clomped along on either side of America. With a bounce in his step, the small companion grinned up at the man. "I love them both," he declared easily.

"I'm glad to hear it," England returned empathetically.

Leaning toward him, the small boy rested his head against his partner's side. "Thank you England," he whispered.

Running a hand through wheat-gold hair, the man murmured; "It was my pleasure." And it was. He enjoyed being able to make his little colony glow with happiness and was always flushed with pride when the child looked to him as if he was god and more. "I'm sure they'll be excellent riding horses by the time I return from my next voyage," he said to the little boy.

America pulled away, a despondent look on his young features. "You're  _leaving_?" He cried.

"Not for another week!" The man replied in equally stressed tones. An angry frown overtaking his undefined face, the little boy responded by stomping away; causing Markie and Larry to give a little hop as they were made to change pace along with their little master.

Shaking his head, the Empire ran a hand down his face and wondered if and when his little colony would be grateful for all that he has done for him. England sure hoped so, because letting him be as spoilit as he was would do him no favors in the future if he were ever to be a profitable colony.

**Author's Note:**

> * The Hymn America sings is called "St. Martin's" (1735) Words by Isaac Watts


End file.
